


The Wrong Mix

by YorkshirePud



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Genderbending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:57:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YorkshirePud/pseuds/YorkshirePud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore stared at the individual who was currently pacing his office in an aggravated fashion with calm contemplation, his quick blue eyes glittering with unconcealed humor at his guest’s obvious ire. A short chuckle escaped his throat as he watched the person stride elegantly from one side of the room to the other, mumbling insults under their breath in what seemed to be a private mantra. </p>
<p>As he watched, the person would stop every once in a while to rearrange their clothing, a thick dark cloak that obscured all features from view, before shooting a sharp glare at the old man and resuming what he was sure was supposed to be a calming action.</p>
<p>Feeling that he had allowed his guest more than enough time to brood, he sat up straight in his over decorated but highly comfortable chair. “Come now,” he stated cheerfully, “Pacing is not going to change anything. Do sit down so that we can discuss the issue.” The person stopped, turning their barely concealed coal eyes towards the old wizard with a look of anger and utter panic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong Mix

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore stared at the individual who was currently pacing his office in an aggravated fashion with calm contemplation, his quick blue eyes glittering with unconcealed humor at his guest’s obvious ire. A short chuckle escaped his throat as he watched the person stride elegantly from one side of the room to the other, mumbling insults under their breath in what seemed to be a private mantra. 

As he watched, the person would stop every once in a while to rearrange their clothing, a thick dark cloak that obscured all features from view, before shooting a sharp glare at the old man and resuming what he was sure was supposed to be a calming action.

Feeling that he had allowed his guest more than enough time to brood, he sat up straight in his over decorated but highly comfortable chair. “Come now,” he stated cheerfully, “Pacing is not going to change anything. Do sit down so that we can discuss the issue.” The person stopped, turning their barely concealed coal eyes towards the old wizard with a look of anger and utter panic.

“Issue?!” a high, silken voice hissed, “I would think this is a damn sight more than an issue.” The person stalked over to a case filled with curious little instruments and glared into their reflection, their body shaking with barely suppressed rage. “A catastrophe is more what I would class this as.”

The old man sighed patiently, briefly removing his half moon glasses to rub his nose before replacing them, “It can be reversed I’m sure,” he supplied, helping himself to a small bright yellow sweet from a dish on his desk. 

“Do you not think I have already tried?” the person snarled, finally deciding to take a seat opposite the desk, “I have tried every single potion and spell that I know of to reverse it. As you can see, the results of my attempts are obvious.” The dark eyes narrowed at the old man in a withering glare, “I have absolutely no wish to stay in this… state of being because some poor excuse for a student decided to attempt accidental suicide in my vicinity.”

“Now, now, Severus,” chided Albus, pushing the bowl of sweets towards his colleague who declined with yet another of his patented dark looks, “Do not be too hard on Mr. Longbottom. Not everyone is as talented at the art of potions as you.”

The dark individual scoffed, “True, but even the most dunderheaded student could brew most of the potions that bumbling fool manages to botch.” Severus took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He looked towards the old man, a barely visible pleading glint in his eye. “Is there any way you can reverse it?” he asked, praying his voice didn’t hold the beseeching tone that he could have sworn he had heard.

“I will not know until I have an idea of what it is I am reversing.” Answered the old man as neutrally as possible. Severus drew back as if stung. “I am not removing the cloak,” he sniffed indignantly; “It is bad enough that I am the laughing stock of the third years without you twinkling so incessantly at me.” 

“Severus,” the old man appealed, “If, as you say, you have been seen by the third years, one way or another, I am going to hear about.” The sour man scowled before he slumped further into his chair, a sense of foreboding emanating from his being. “Would it not be less painfully to get it over with sooner rather than later?”

The potions master glared at his employer for a while, his expression outraged as he mulled over the pro’s and con’s of adhering to the old headmaster’s request. With an expression of one being forced to swallow a particularly painful lemon, he began to remove the cloak, coming to the conclusion that no matter how infuriating the meddling old fool could be, the idea of being forced to reveal his situation before the entire school was as attractive as willingly slicing off a limb with a blunt blade.  
Upon laying eyes on what Severus was reluctantly revealing from beneath, Albus did the first thing that came to mind. He chuckled, forgetting in the light of what he was seeing about the sweet on which he was currently sucking and thus promptly began choking on it. Severus watched with an almost smug sneer as the headmaster fought to swallow it before sweeping out of his seat to thump the old man on the back. He returned to his chair as Albus recovered his composure, wiping away a small tear that was trickling down his cheek.

“Satisfied?” the younger of the two drawled, fighting the urge to hide beneath the cloak once more and to spare what little was left of his dignity. It was already in tatters with the knowledge that Potter and his tag-alongs were aware of his situation and he was loathe to subject himself to further humiliation.

“Infinitely,” replied Albus, chuckling into his hand in the pretext of a cough, earning himself another reproachful glare from the resident potion’s master. ‘Or perhaps another variation of the term would be more appropriate,’ he thought with a smile, “And may I say Severus, that you make a rather fetching young-”

“Albus, if you dare finish that sentence I swear that will not hesitate to walk out of this door and not return.” Severus spat, gnashing his teeth in agitation. Albus quirked an amused brow at that threat, “Really Severus?” he queried, “Like that?” He stared at the man sat before him, matching Severus’s dagger like glare with his own calm gaze. The potions master was the first to look away, literally fuming. “Can you reverse it or am I simply wasting valuable research time watching you twinkle?” he snarled impatiently.

Albus regarded the young teacher seriously for a moment. “Yes,” he answered slowly, smiling as his colleague visibly slumped in relief, “There is a potion that can return you to your usually self.” Severus closed his eyes with a sigh, letting his head fall onto the back his chair with a quietly muttered, “Thank goodness.”

“But…”   
The potion’s master’s eyes shot open as feeling of utter dread welled up in his stomach. “But…?” he repeated in a suspicious tone. Albus smiled at him apologetically, causing him to grip the edge of his chair as the sense of dread began to feel like a ten ton weight. “Albus.” He growled out, “How long will it take to make.”  
“Three weeks.” The headmaster replied meekly, his expression almost sheepish. Severus froze, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates with horror. “Th-Three weeks…” he gasped out, his finger nails gouging marks into the delicate wood of the chair while his already pale skin became practically translucent as what was left of his colour seemed to flee from his face.

“It is a very complicated potion,” explained Albus hastily, eyeing Severus’s clenched fingers as they began to twitch with the force he was using on one of his favourite chairs, “You of all people are aware of how sensitive some ingredients are. The potion needs certain requirements to be met in order for to be brewed correctly, along with time in order to simmer.” The dark haired individual continued to glower at the ancient professor, his shoulders heaving as he took deep breaths in order to keep the calm sarcastic demeanor he always worked so hard to nurture.

He leaned forward against the desk, cradling his forehead in his hands before pulling back to observe them, noting that his fingers were still long and elegant yet now with a more slender shape rather than just thin. A shudder of dread swept down his spine at the thought of the student’s reaction to his changes. His reputation would never survive this. He closed his eyes, willing himself not let out a groan of despair.

“Is there no spell?” he pleaded once more, “None at all that can help? Maybe even a potion that can be brewed quickly?” His heart sunk as Albus shook his head negative. Severus jumped out of his chair with a growl, resuming his pacing from earlier. “You cannot possibly expect me to appear in front of the students like this,” he muttered morosely. “I’m afraid you will have to,” replied Albus, a smile quirking once more as he took note of the full extent of the young professor’s changes, “Good potions masters are rather hard to come by these days, even if we only need a replacement for a brief period.”

Severus stood still in the center of the room and gave a sigh of defeat, his shoulders hunched in a stance reminiscent to a sulk. “Very well.” He huffed, walking towards the spiral staircase out side the circular office, “I will continue to teach the students. But I will not be held responsible for my actions if they even look at me unpleasantly.” He swept out the room, his robes billowing as dramatically as ever as left. 

Albus chuckled once more as he shook his head at Severus’s antics. A mass of black caught his eye and a mischievous twinkle appeared in the sky blue depths as he observed that his young colleague had forgotten his cloak.

OoOoOoO

The next morning, students were converged into groups discussing the previous day’s incident. It had not taken very long for the rumour of Neville’s most recent potion’s mishap to spread through each of the houses and even less time for people to hear that Professor Snape, the most disliked of teachers and Hogwart’s very own greasy bat of the dungeons, had been at the brunt of it. To put it bluntly, the whole school population was delighted.

Severus peered towards the line of students waiting to be admitted into his classroom with feeling of trepidation. Although he knew he was merely prolonging his humiliation, up until now, he had managed to conceal his situation from the students by utilizing the numerous secret pathways and staircases that lay in abundance around the school. As he watched, the teenagers leaned towards one another, no doubt discussing their opinions of what may have happened to the Potion’s Master. Already a few rather imaginative theories had reached his ears, brought to his attention by courtesy of Minerva McGonagall and Rolanda Hooch.

“I think he’s been horrifically injured,” whispered one particularly loud Gryffindor, causing Severus to wonder why the boy had even bothered to lower his voice, “They’ve probably carted him off to St Mungo’s for treatment.” His friend scoffed, folding his arms as he shook his head in disagreement. “Nah,” the youth answered, “If that was the case, Dumbledore would have probably announced it at breakfast. I bet he’s just gone into hiding because the potion has made him horribly disfigured or something.” The other teen’s eyes brightened as he considered it, “Hey! Do you think that means Potion’s is going to be cancelled for today?” he asked hopefully. Severus rolled his eyes.

“I doubt it,” grumbled Ron Weasley, bane number five of Severus Snape’s existence, “The greasy git would still turn up to dock points if he was limping on one foot and bleeding to death.” Bane number four glanced disapprovingly at her friend’s lack of respect but didn’t call him on it. Neville Longbottom, Bane number six, hovered anxiously the furthest away from the classroom door, looking, for all to see, as though he was about to be sent to the gallows.

‘You should be afraid,’ Severus thought menacingly, glowering at the teen who, much to his delight, twitched as though he could feel it, ‘You should be VERY afraid.’ He spent a moment in his secluded hiding place, mulling over possible punishments that he would bestow upon the unfortunate Gryffindor. Yes, he grinned, resisting the urge to show his glee by rubbing his hands together, Mr. Longbottom will rue the day he ever set foot inside that dark classroom that day.  
“Severus? Where were you at breakfast and what on earth are you hiding from?”

Severus jumped as he felt a hand grasp his shoulder from behind. On instinct he drew his wand, turning sharply to face his assailant and meeting the bemused brown eyes of this years DADA Teacher. “Lupin,” he sneered, stowing his wand back into his sleeve while shooting the shabby looking werewolf a dirty look, “Shouldn’t you be in class attempting to teach at this moment?”

Remus stared at the dark haired man, his eyes rounded with surprise as he took in Severus’s appearance as the dark haired professor tried not to cringe, suddenly very aware that Albus still had his cloak. “So that’s what happened,” the quiet professor mused, his lip twitching a little as though wishing to smile but not quite daring to, “ I had heard that you had been hit by a stray potion but I never thought it had any lasting effects.” He let out a quiet laugh, causing Severus to narrow his eyes considerably. 

“If you are quite finished satisfying your curiosity, I would appreciate it if you would get to the point of your presence in my dungeons.” He shot a look at his students who were still waiting at the class door, albeit less patiently than before and turned back to his colleague, his demeanor suspicious, “Unless that was your purpose in the first place.”

Remus shook his head, the smile spreading across his lips despite his best efforts to restrain it. Severus still looked like himself in many ways, but the difference was obvious. He was, as ever, tall and slightly gaunt looking, his black hair still falling in its normal lank greasy strands in a curtain around his pallid face with his overly large nose jutting out from his features as it always had. But instead of the sharp angular features that he had once sported, his face was softer now, his figure curved and lean and his eyes large and enshrouded in thick eyelashes. But most eye catching of all was the two extremely out of place lumps on his chest that the Potion’s Professor was currently trying so desperately to obscure in the billowing folds of his teaching robes. 

Having answered one of his questions, the answer to the second automatically clicked itself into place inside Remus’s head, triggering an almost uncharacteristically delighted smile to spread across his features that only broadened further when he noted the way Severus would peer over at the line of students as if to check they were still waiting. He was hiding from them.

“You do realize that no amount of procrastination is going to stop them figuring it out,” Remus commented, observing the professor as he turned to once again check on the assembled teenagers, “You’re going to have to reveal yourself at some point or else risk them discovering you any way.” Severus twitched, obviously disgruntled by that thought. 

“An unsavory notion that I am painfully aware of,” retorted Severus, suddenly feeling emboldened by Remus’s unspoken accusation of cowardice and straightening his back into what he hoped was a commanding and challenging posture, “Now if you will excuse me, I believe I have a class to teach and students to punish. If you have no more business in the dungeons then I suggest you do the same. Good day.” With that, the tall potions master raised his head high and after a deep breath, strode into view of the increasingly irate students.

As he approached, the loud buzz of chatter floundered for a moment as the students caught sight of him. After a few seconds of poorly concealed nudges and muffled gasps, the hallway fell silent as every eye seemed fixed on the professor.


End file.
